


He Who Is Most High (and Favoured)

by amberfox17



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Thor, Concubine Thor, Hot Dad Laufey, Intersex, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Top Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberfox17/pseuds/amberfox17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor was supposed to marry Loki in order to seal the peace with Jotunheim, but when Laufey saw Asgard's Golden Prince he claimed him for his own. Now the King of Jotunheim is equal parts pleased and exasperated with his most favoured concubine, Thor is discovering a side of himself he never knew he had and Loki is plotting patricide, but that last part's not really relevant here...</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Who Is Most High (and Favoured)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [marty-mc's art](http://marty-mc.tumblr.com/post/61140789936/commission-for-alma-thor-concubine-of-king) as commissioned by [ayonoi and based on her headcanon](http://ayonoi.tumblr.com/post/61152044878/marty-mc-commission-for-alma-thor-concubine)
> 
> Alma has been kind enough to grant me permission to borrow concubine!Thor from her gorgeous commission for a fill for my Thorki porn challenge (which will be appearing later this week); as grateful thanks I offer you Thor/Laufey sizekink smut based on the above art & headcanon, set early in the relationship!

Thor watches silently from his place at the side of Laufey’s throne as the assembled giants file out, many of them sneaking glances at him as they go. Laufey remains seated, face implacable, until even the Princes have left, Loki glaring at his father in disgust as he sweeps out of the room. Only then does Laufey sigh and rise, beckoning Thor with a crooked finger. Thor inwardly seethes but forces himself to stay quiet and obedient in public. This is his duty; he swore to obey.

Thor follows Laufey to the King’s bedchambers, grand and richly furnished, even by Asgard’s standards. He takes his accustomed place in the centre of the room and waits irritably as Laufey casts off his heavy state robe and golden cuffs.

“My son looks on you with greedy eyes,” Laufey says calmly as he approaches Thor and of course this is what Laufey chooses to speak of and not the heated arguments about the new trade agreements with Asgard that Thor had been forced to listen to but not allowed to comment on.

“Your entire Court looks on me with greedy eyes,” Thor counters with no small bitterness. Red eyes follow him with open interest wherever he goes, and he has had to introduce his hammer to the faces and groins of many warriors who thought the King’s concubine fair game. Loki is the least of his worries: the Crown Prince watches him more hungrily than any other, and corners Thor far too often with demands veiled as invitations, but he is Thor’s own size and easily enough overpowered.

“You are a rare treasure,” Laufey observes as he places one huge palm on Thor’s chest, heat flaring at his fingertips and spreading along Thor’s chest and over his limbs as he casts his spell. “A golden beauty, a fearsome warrior and the son of the Allfather. What jötunn would not want to possess you?”

“I am not a possession,” Thor growls, hand going to his hip before he remembers Mjolnir has been left in his own chamber, for her magic interferes with Laufey’s nightly renewal of the seidr that keeps Thor warm and protected in the bitter cold of Jotunheim. “I am a Prince of Asgard.”

Laufey’s lips crook up in what might almost be a smile. “You are _my_ possession, little godling,” he says, a tutor correcting an errant pupil. “You are mine for all of my days, to do with as I please.”

Thor snarls in fury and pulls away from Laufey’s touch so he can swing for him, but Laufey reads the movement in his shoulders and likely his face, and he seizes Thor’s arms and pins them to his side before he can react. Thor struggles instinctively, but it really is no use; he fancies he is the equal of Laufey in brute strength but Laufey is taller and bigger and far, far more experienced than Thor.

“You have the manners of an icewolf,” Laufey says, infuriately calm as Thor curses and thrashes in his powerful grasp. “You may bare your fangs all you like, but it does not change what is. You are my concubine. You may, in time, become my consort, but that all depends on how well you please me.”

“I have no intention of pleasing you,” Thor roars, and kicks out hard with both legs, trusting in Laufey’s tight grip. Both his feet connect with Laufey’s stomach, a good blow, and Laufey grunts in pain. But the Frost Giant King is not to be felled with one strike and instead of dropping Thor he lifts him up and holds him out at arm’s length, leaving Thor kicking and squirming like a child.

“You please me well,” Laufey says, openly amused at Thor’s fury. “Little wolf. My own fierce little pet.”

Thor would like to rage and scream further, but it is hopelessly undignified to do while being held up in such a way and so he lapses into sullenness. After a few moments Laufey lowers him to the ground and releases him.

“I am victorious again,” Laufey says, crossing his arms and looking down at Thor. “Now, get on the bed.”

“What?” Thor spits. “No, that was – that was no true contest! That is not our agreement!”

“No?” Laufey asks, looming over Thor, harsh and jagged and huge. “You gave me your word that every time I beat you, you would come to my bed without further resistance. I have beaten you. Come to bed.”

“I swore I would _only_ come to your bed _if_ you could beat me in a contest of strength and skill,” Thor argues, silently damning this slippery King and his devious ways. “That was not such a contest. You must fight me if you want me this night.”

“I want you all nights,” Laufey says, slowly looking Thor up and down, and Thor cannot help a flush at Laufey’s utter shamelessness. “But I would have you willing. So if you insist on this pretence, I will humour you.”    

“It is no pretence!” is Thor’s immediate response, and he ignores both Laufey’s raised eyebrow and his own shiver of excitement as Laufey unclasps his jewellery and loosens his clothing.

Laufey, King of Jotunheim, Lord of Ice and Master of the Winter Throne, stands fully naked before Thor, his proud horns inscribed with a thousand jagged cuts, one for each kill he has made in battle, his body only lightly scarred by the wars that he has waged, every inch the huge and terrible warrior-king Thor had always thought him to be. But he is also now Thor’s lover, though Thor would never speak the word, and so his gaze is drawn not to Laufey’s broad shoulders and thick muscles, but to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs, already swelling at the thought of having Thor.

Thor will not give Laufey the satisfaction of licking his lips at the sight, but it is a close run thing, and he turns away as he strips off his own clothing, lest his own body betray his rising excitement. He had not expected to find any joy in doing his duty in Laufey’s bed, but then, before Laufey he had never known what it was to be owned and mastered by someone near twice his size and his equal in strength, someone he need not hold back with nor strive for control over. But no man may say Thor of Asgard surrenders without a fight, not even to a foe he has no wish to overcome.

“Get on the bed, little wolf,” Laufey commands, voice rough and low.

“No,” Thor says, dropping into a crouch and ducking nimbly out of the way as Laufey lunges for him. He stays close, dancing around Laufey’s body, dodging the grasping hands and raining swift, controlled punches and low kicks to Laufey’s most accessible weak points: the backs of his knees, his solar plexus, his ankles. Laufey moves surprisingly fast for someone of his size and Thor has had to learn how to be faster, how to weave and dance around him instead of merely barrelling in and trying to overpower him as he did to his opponents in Asgard.

He does not pull his punches and is successful in driving Laufey to his knees; however, the older King is canny, and he feigns being winded, letting his head droop, and as Thor slows and circles round to assess him he lashes out and knocks Thor clean to the floor. In mere moments he has Thor pinned, using his bulk to hold Thor down, pressing Thor face-down into the floor as his now fully hard cock rubs along Thor’s ass.

“I win,” Laufey growls and Thor shudders, feeling his deep voice reverberate through his body. He cannot resist arching up a little and is rewarded by having Laufey shift, covering him more fully, keeping Thor spread-eagled and utterly vulnerable. Laufey nuzzles at Thor’s head, rubbing his cheek along Thor’s before licking at his exposed neck and Thor’s harsh panting turns to a long sigh as Laufey begins to kiss the back of his neck, grinding his erection against Thor’s ass.

“You win,” Thor murmurs faintly and waits; sure enough, Laufey nips warningly at his ear and only then does he add, “my King,” as he tilts his hips up.

“You try my patience,” Laufey rumbles, his breath hot on Thor’s face. “Now get on the bed before I take you on the floor.”

He means it; it would not be the first time Laufey’s patience has snapped with Thor’s behaviour. Thor nods as best he can with Laufey’s weight on him, and with a final kiss Laufey lets him up.

Thor gets to his feet but does not go to the bed. He will not fight Laufey further but neither will he make this easy for Jotunheim’s King. Instead he crosses to the wall and takes a stance with his back to it, legs spread wide and arms crossed, giving Laufey his most challenging stare.

“Foolish,” Laufey snarls at him, stalking closer until Thor is forced to crane his head back to meet his fierce gaze. “I would be gentle with you, if you would but let me.”

Thor snorts; he has no interest in gentleness. He is a prize fairly won in battle and expects to be treated as such and if the thought of being taken and claimed by the huge giant has a fiercer lust pooling in his belly than any of the _gentle_ beauties of Asgard, well, no-one shall know it but him.

Laufey shoves his knee between Thor’s spread legs, lifting him up on his tiptoes and grabs Thor’s half-hard cock, engulfing it in his broad palm. Thor bucks up, but when Laufey bends to kiss him he bites him on the lip. Laufey hisses and pins him against the wall with the flat of his hand. This is what Thor wants and he rewards Laufey for it with a guttural moan.

Laufey steps back, turns away, and Thor tries to grab at him, to bring him back, but Laufey eludes him with ease. Laufey searches hastily through a nearby chest until he finds a half-empty vial of lubricant. Thor had been humiliated to find it in his belongings when he unpacked in Jotunheim, and is still uncertain whether it was his mother or the healer, Eir, who included it, but he is now very grateful for it is thicker and longer-lasting than anything they have found in Jotunheim and Thor has a real need for its relaxing and numbing properties.

Laufey coats his fingers thoroughly with the sweet-smelling lubricant and brings the vial with him as he returns to Thor; he hands it to him before pressing him firmly against the wall, legs spread as wide as he can. For all his gruffness Laufey has never truly hurt Thor, even though it would be all too easy given the vast difference in their sizes. One hand is punishingly tight on Thor’s hip, no doubt leaving over-sized bruises, but the other works slowly and carefully into Thor’s hole, the blunt fingers gentle as he works him open. Preparing Thor to take Laufey’s cock is by necessity a long process, and one Laufey does not always have the patience for, but tonight, despite Thor’s provocation, he seems intent on it and fingers Thor with a single-mindedness that has Thor gasping and jerking in Laufey’s hands.

At last Laufey judges him ready and lifts Thor up, handling Thor with ease, shifting his grip to support Thor by gripping his ass tightly and letting him wrap his legs around Laufey’s waist. Thor pours a generous amount of lubricant onto Laufey’s cock, working it over the thick shaft before letting the sealed vial fall to the floor. Laufey lifts Thor higher and then moves him into position until the thick head of his cock rests against his fluttering hole. Thor nods confidently and Laufey begins to lower him onto his cock.

“That’s it, little one,” Laufey says soothingly as he pushes into Thor inch by endless inch, the sheer size and width of his enormous cock forcing the breath and stinging response from Thor’s lungs as he is stretched almost beyond bearing. He tries to relax but it is still new and overwhelming for him to be fucked at all, never mind by such a truly giant cock and he lets out a high-pitched whine as Laufey continues to fill him up.

At last Laufey bottoms out and Thor trembles, unable to move, utterly impaled and at Laufey’s mercy. He could weep for the sheer pleasure of it, but then Laufey starts to move and he yelps instead, clutching at Laufey’s broad shoulders as he pulls back and fucks forward, invading Thor anew. As he moves his cock drags over Thor’s prostrate – drags over every inch of him – and he spasms, sparks dancing before his eyes and along his spine. Laufey grins and does it again, settling into a lazy rhythm, rolling his hips into Thor, and Thor can do nothing but take it, pinned by Laufey’s bulk and the sweet steady friction inside him, his neglected cock drooling a long, silvery stream of pre-come where it bobs against his belly.

As soon as he can get his breath back he hisses, “I am not your little one,” but it is hard to sound angry when he pants between the words, when Laufey leans forward and laps the sweat from his neck and he moans desperately, trying to grind down on Laufey’s cock and succeeding only in squirming.

“You are beautiful,” Laufey tells him, his fucking as slow and steady as his voice, no matter what Thor does; “like nothing I have ever seen. I am not sorry that I took you for myself, _Mighty_ Thor, for I knew you would love this, that you would be golden and glorious on my cock, so fierce and unyielding and yet so hungry for a fucking by a true warrior.”

“Shut up,” Thor says, hating how foolish he sounds, but he clutches more tightly at Laufey and the King laughs.

“Do you not wish to hear how precious you are to me?” Laufey says, and now he increases his pace, pulling out a little further, pushing in a little harder, Thor’s body straining with the effort of keeping up, the friction good, so good, but not enough for him to come. “So tight, so strong, so utterly perfect?”

Thor snarls inarticulately at him and Laufey responds by lowering his head to kiss him, letting Thor shift his grip to his ridged horns as he fucks him in earnest, slamming into him with a strength that leaves Thor breathless. Laufey has Thor utterly pinned and he uses him brutally, their bodies jarring with the impact as he gets close to his climax, Thor hanging on as Laufey fucks him hard and fast with shallow, jerky movements, Thor encouraging him with savage growls as his enormous cock ploughs into Thor’s willing flesh.

Laufey comes with a strangled grunt, body going rigid as his climax hits and he floods Thor with come, his cock leaping inside Thor as Thor’s own jerks in frustrated response. Thor is still unused to how much come there is, filling him up to the brim and overflowing, leaking from his stretched hole and sliding down his ass cheeks to leave his thighs slick. He cannot help a moan at the feel of it, at the proof of how well he has been fucked, lust blazing through him as Laufey gently lowers him and slowly slides his cock out, leaving Thor feeling empty and aching for his own release.

Thor drops to the floor on unsteady legs, but he is not done yet. Laufey is breathing hard, eyes glazed, cock still pulsing weakly with the last aftershocks of his orgasm and Thor sees his advantage. He reaches out and slides his hand up Laufey’s inner thigh until he reaches his sopping wet cunt and runs his fingers lightly over the slick folds. Laufey grunts and pushes into the touch and now Thor grins, for the mighty giant is looking down at him with pleading eyes.

“Get on the bed, my King,” he says smugly, just to see Laufey’s eyes flash with a mixture of amusement, irritation and lust. It is hard for Thor to walk properly after the thorough fucking he has just had, but he will show no weakness, and so he follows Laufey to the bed without a wince to kneel between Laufey’s spread legs. He has long since ceased finding Laufey’s sex strange and at times like this he often envies the jötnar, for it would certainly be much more convenient to have a cock and cunt both, and Laufey seems to get equal enjoyment from each.

Thor has spent many hours with his face pressed into Laufey’s cunt, lapping up his sweet juices as Laufey claws at the furs, but all of he can think of now is his burning need to bury his cock inside Laufey and finally come, and it is not as if Laufey needs anything else from him, for he is dripping wet and more than ready. Thor takes his cock in hand and guides it to Laufey’s hole and without hesitation plunges into him with one deep thrust. Laufey moans and arches, horns thudding against the bed, and Thor grabs him by the thighs and lifts his legs higher, hooks them over his shoulders and gets to it.

He has not the patience nor the temperament of the older giant and certainly no desire to be gentle; he fucks Laufey as hard as he can, revelling in the freedom to unleash his strength in a way he never dared with his fellow Asgardians, pounding into Laufey’s juicy cunt with bruising force. Laufey makes a deep rumbling noise as he does so that vibrates through his body and into Thor, and that Thor has come to understand is an expression of deep and sincere pleasure.

“I am not your _little_ pet,” he snarls through gritted teeth as he surges forward, faster, deeper, Laufey’s cunt impossibly tight around him, “and you love my cock as much as I love yours.”

“Yes,” Laufey growls in response, repeating the word over and over and Thor could not possibly say what he likes best: being slowly taken to pieces by a giant near twice his size or having that self-same King spread out beneath him, writhing on his cock, desperate for the good hard fucking Thor is giving him. He can feel Laufey’s come trickling down his legs as he fucks into his cunt and the smell of their combined arousal fills the room, the scent of musk and sweat and come, the air filled with their grunts and moans and the sound of Thor’s balls slapping against Laufey’s body.

It is now and only now that Thor lets himself know the truth: that he is glad, so glad that Laufey took him as a concubine, that he has the father and not the son, and that he doesn’t care if he is never made consort, if he never returns home, so long as he has this, being fucked by and fucking Laufey, watching his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back as Thor grinds against his g-spot and he comes again, cock jerking in a dry orgasm as his cunt clenches even more tightly around Thor’s cock, the great King _wailing_ for Thor as he comes and it’s too much, too much and Thor roars out his own orgasm, emptying himself into Laufey in short, shallow thrusts.

Thor lets Laufey’s legs and slumps over him, shaking with the force of his climax. Laufey hums in satisfaction and begins to stroke Thor’s hair, idly untangling the knots and loosening his braids. Thor presses a sloppy kiss to Laufey’s chest, too exhausted to pull out and clamber up to reach his face.

“I am well pleased,” Laufey rumbles and Thor doesn’t need to see the smirk to know that it is there, but he is feeling too blissful to care. He drifts contentedly even as his spent cock slips free, filthy and uncaring, focused on Laufey’s warm and soothing hands. He is soon half-asleep and almost misses Laufey’s low murmuring.

“Tomorrow, you shall train with my warriors in the morning,” Laufey says, “and you shall sit with me in Council in the afternoon. As you say, you are a Prince Royal, and it is time Jotunheim recognised you for who you are: Thor, God of Thunder and the Most High and Favoured Concubine of their King.”

“Your sons will not be pleased,” Thor mutters to hide his pleasure at both the prospect of training and statecraft and an unexpected thrill at being named most favoured.

“My sons would do well to remember that they may not always be my only heirs,” Laufey says, hand heavy on Thor’s neck and oh, Thor had not even thought that far, but he makes the effort to place one hand on Laufey’s taut abdomen, thumb stroking over the raised lines that curl into a spiral there, and offers a softer, gentle kiss over his heart.

“My best beloved,” Laufey says affectionately, and Thor does not protest, but lets himself be lulled to sleep by the slow, steady beating of Laufey’s heart, curled atop the giant, his own bed forgotten and unwanted as Laufey wraps him up in a protective embrace.


End file.
